


Touch

by sandwastesinthevoidofmychest



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Sex, Mycroft is a Softie, Not Beta Read, Soft Smut Sunday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23983624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest/pseuds/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest
Summary: Mycroft returns from a business trip, just in time for Greg's birthday.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88
Collections: Soft Smut Sunday





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr blog @softsmutsunday's prompt for this week was 'hands', hope I did it justice. 
> 
> Hope you're all keeping safe, enjoy <3

It’s almost four in the morning by the time Mycroft’s car drops him home from the airport. 

The lights in the house are off, as he expected. He hadn’t told Greg that he’d be back today, it was to be a surprise. 

It’s his husband’s birthday, and Mycroft has been abroad for far, far too long. 

Mycroft’s been away from London for two weeks; into which he’s been stretched across continents because no one seems to be able to run a country anymore. 

It had killed him seeing Greg’s face fall over video call when Mycroft had told him he wouldn’t be back for another week. 

Greg didn’t mention his birthday, but Mycroft knew he was thinking of it. 

So when Mycroft saw the opportunity to leave negotiations early, he took it and ran. 

Mycroft’s silent as he unlocks the door and turns off the alarms. 

Greg is not as light a sleeper as he used to be, but he is easy to wake. 

So, Mycroft slips out of his shoes and hangs his coat. 

The excitement of seeing his husband again brings him up to their bedroom in seconds. 

As he pushes the door open silently, he’s met with the sight of Greg sleeping in their bed. He’s bathed in the soft light of the lamp on his nightstand, a book is lying open on the floor and Mycroft can’t help the affectionate smile that blooms on his lips. 

_Fallen asleep reading again._

Mycroft approaches the bed slowly, Greg’s breathing is even and deep. He’s in an old t-shirt, and Mycroft’s taken off-guard when he realises Greg is holding onto Mycroft’s pillow, face buried in it. 

He was never aware of how Greg slept while he was away, and the mere sight of his husband curled up against his pillow sends a shot of guilt through him. 

_I’ve left you alone too long._

Greg shifts in his sleep then, and when Mycroft’s name becomes a muffled whisper, Mycroft can’t wait any longer. 

He kneels down by Greg’s side of the bed, and his heart stutters as he whispers Greg’s name. 

Greg shifts in sleep, turning around to face Mycroft, as though he’s following the source of the noise. 

Mycroft’s hands are cold, even after wearing gloves and he doesn’t want to startle Greg by touching him. 

“Gregory, dearest?” 

“Mmph.” Greg murmurs, frowning in his sleep. 

“Gregory, darling, wake up.” Mycroft brushes his hand across Greg’s shoulder, over the material of his tshirt. 

Greg’s eyes flicker, and Mycroft watches in adoration as Greg slowly comes too. 

Mycroft’s sure that the memory of Greg’s deep inhale when he meets Mycroft’s gaze, followed by a breathtaking smile will sustain him for life. 

“Myc!” Greg’s voice is rough with sleep, and he sits up, reaching out to Mycroft, helping him up off his knees and into the bed.

Mycroft easily finds himself drawn onto Greg’s lap, and he can’t help but lean in and kiss the other man, hands coming up to cradle his face. “Happy birthday, Gregory dearest.” He whispers. 

Greg pulls him in closer, fingers buried in Mycroft’s hair. 

They kiss until they need to stop for breath, and even then, Greg presses small closed-mouth kisses across Mycroft’s cheeks. 

“Myc.” Greg murmurs, eyes shining. “Come to bed.” 

“As you wish, dearest.” He can’t help but smile when Greg starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Can’t believe you came home for my birthday, darlin’.” Greg’s eyes still shine, they’re darker now with arousal as he watches Mycroft undress, amusement is clear on his face when he sees that Mycroft’s not even stopping to fold his clothes; they lie in a pile on the floor. 

“I’m home for the foreseeable future.” Mycroft informs him as he pulls back the duvet, watching intently as Greg easily slips off his t-shirt and boxers. 

Greg holds out his arms for Mycroft, who goes easily. “So you don’t have to leave again after today?” 

“No. I’m still going to be here with you.” Mycroft promises. 

“Mycroft Holmes, I love you.” Greg whispers, and Mycroft kisses away a tear. 

“I missed you far too much.” Mycroft confesses, “Let me make it up to you.” 

Greg lies back down, and Mycroft catches hold of his hands, allowing himself to be pulled down on top of Greg. 

“S’work.” Greg murmurs against Mycroft’s lips, “Touch me, darlin’.” 

Mycroft leans into a kiss, then deepens it, rejoicing in the familiar taste of his husband. His hands trail down Greg’s body, fingers delicate, focusing on the places that Greg is sensitive. 

Greg moans into the kiss, his own hands tracing Mycroft’s vertebrae, and Mycroft shivers against the barely-there touch. 

His mind supplies that there’s something different about the feel of his husband’s fingers. 

But the thought vanishes as Greg’s hands cup his arse, pulling him in closer. 

Their erections brush against each other and they both moan. 

“Welcome home, darlin’.” Greg whispers into Mycroft’s ear, before nipping it. 

Mycroft buries his head in Greg’s neck, pressing soft kisses to the delicate skin, “And happy birthday to you.” 

Greg hums happily, running his fingers up and down Mycroft’s spine. “As long as you’re here, it is.” 

Kissing Greg slowly morphs into Mycroft trailing kisses down Greg’s body, Greg’s fingers in his hair, Greg moaning as Mycroft kisses all the available skin. His hands caress, following his mouth as he worships his way down his husband’s body. 

Mycroft stokes Greg’s cock slowly, teasingly and Greg’s fingers tighten in his hair when he takes him into his mouth. 

“Myc!” Greg moans, and Mycroft can feel Greg’s blunt nails against his scalp, it sends another wave of arousal through him, and he hums around Greg’s cock, taking him deeper. 

“Darlin’, stop.” Greg manages, breathless, fingers almost painful in his hair. 

Mycroft obediently pulls away, moving back up Greg’s body, leaning in to stroke his cheek. “What do you need, my love?”

Greg leans into his touch, arousal clear on his features. “You, My.” Greg whispers, “Inside me.” 

Mycroft’s breath sounds loud in their room, and he shifts to kiss Greg again, smiling against his lips. “Of course.” He murmurs, “Of course.” 

Mycroft fetches the lube from the bedside table and leans down to draw Greg into another kiss. “Turn around for me?” 

Greg nods, lips kiss-swollen, eyes dark with arousal, face and chest flushed. 

“You’re breathtaking.” Mycroft whispers, voice shaking. 

Mycroft kisses his way down Greg’s spine, coating his index finger in lube, “Relax, love.” Mycroft murmurs, pressing against Greg’s hole. 

“God, those fucking fingers, Myc. _Please._ ” 

Greg wants to face Mycroft as he gets fucked, and Mycroft is wholly in favour. He helps him onto his back again, and Greg grins hands around his Mycroft’s shoulders. 

“Kiss me, darlin’.” 

They move together, kissing and breathing against each other. 

Greg’s eyes meet Mycroft’s and all the unsaid is clear as though it’s been spoken aloud. 

Greg’s moans are music to Mycroft’s ears, it’s been far too long. 

Greg holds Mycroft close, legs wrapped around him, hands keeping Mycroft as close as possible. 

“Touch me?” Greg asks breathlessly, “Wanna hold you close.” 

Mycroft can only drag him into another kiss, lingering and hungry. He slips a hand between them, stroking Greg the way he likes. 

Greg arches against him, demanding faster, harder. Mycroft does as he wishes. 

They come one after the other, collapsing onto each other. 

Greg’s hold on him doesn’t ease, instead he holds Mycroft close as they slowly catch their breath. 

Their kisses are slow and delicate, and Greg’s still reluctant to let Mycroft go. 

“Love you.” Greg says eventually, allowing Mycroft to pull out. 

“And I you, Gregory. Let me just clean us up.” 

Greg’s eyes don’t leave Mycroft, a content and sated smile on his lips.

When they’re back in bed together, Mycroft holds Greg in his arms, Greg’s fingers trail up Mycroft’s bare arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“Your fingers feel different.” Mycroft says softly, taking hold of Greg’s hand, kissing the fingers before looking at them in the muted light. 

He’s met with the sight of new callouses on the tips of Greg’s fingers. 

Greg watches him, cheeks flushed. “Finally took my guitar down from the loft. Had some spare time, thought ‘why not?’ Been years since I last played.”

Mycroft brings Greg’s fingers to his lips, kissing each one individually. “I would be honoured to hear you play.” 

Greg trails his fingers across Mycroft’s lips, the new sensation making him shiver in pleasure. “Mhmm. Would like that.” 

Mycroft lays his hand on Greg’s cheek, “Happy birthday, my love.”

Greg intertwines their fingers, squeezing Mycroft’s hand. “The happiest. With you here.” 

“I’d like to play you a piece on the piano that I composed while away later on.” 

Greg’s eyes light up, “Please. I love when you play, love to watch you play.” 

Mycroft presses a kiss on Greg’s forehead, “Anything for you, my love.” 

“Love you, Myc.” Greg murmurs, eyes heavy with sleep, his grip on Mycroft’s hand is comforting, reassuring. 

“And I love you, Gregory.” Mycroft whispers, watching Greg’s eyes slip closed, his chest is full of warmth. 

He adores the man curled up against him, always has and always will. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @lostallsenseofcontrol  
> Twitter: @lostallsenseof1


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